


your body felt like a backpack

by 3ffloresce



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, descriptions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 17:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7061950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3ffloresce/pseuds/3ffloresce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's always received threats on his life. Rhys deals with the aftermath a of a successful attempt</p>
            </blockquote>





	your body felt like a backpack

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of modern AU and I felt like writing angst on the bus?? I guess?? So yeah
> 
> Inspired by "Backpack" by Andrew Jackson Jihad

Rhys's hands shook as he lit the cigarette. He didn't smoke but they smelled like Jack and his first inhale of tobacco felt like the first time he breathed that day. He sat on the hood of Jack's car and smoked and smoked Jack's cigarettes as the sun rose. Jack sat beside him, still as though sleeping.

A shaky exhale. Rhys curled his fingers over Jack's cold ones. The ocean waves crashed and the rest of nature was silent.

\--

Threats on Jack's life were common. He was a powerful man and there were plenty of people who would prefer him dead though there were few who would act on it. The few that did usually met untimely deaths (usually at Jack's hands).

A letter came. Addressed to their personal home. For the first time, Jack seemed shaken by a threat. Grit teeth and wide eyes as he read over the letter in tight fingers. Rhys wasn't allowed to read it. 

Security was strengthened and still Jack was tense, wouldn't sleep.

Rhys frowned at Jack, not speaking and simply stated at his silhouette in the darkness of the bedroom. A large hand curled around the back of his neck.

"You gonna keep staring or are you gonna sleep?" Jack said, his voice low.

Rhys curled in tighter against his side. "I could say the same to you. The ceiling isn't going to get you, Jack." He attempted to joke but the crease between Jack's brows seemed to crease more instead.

A silence fell over the two. No witty response or joke from Jack but simply his fingers curling and stroking at the soft skin on Rhys's neck. 

".... Jack?" Rhys reached out to Jack's face, only to have it snatched and his wrist kissed.

"Go to sleep, pumpkin. You have a busy day tomorrow."

Rhys bit his lip and nodded. He flung a long leg over Jack's and curled around him. As his eyes closed he felt Jack's eyes boring into his face. As if he was trying to memorize it.

A breakfast and a kiss goodbye the next morning. Rhys smiled and turned to leave but Jack grabbed his wrist and forced him to face him. Rhys blinked wide eyed as he was pulled flush against Jack's broad chest. Jack's eyes scanned over his face, frowning as though he was inspecting a piece of machinery, then smiled. He pulled Rhys into a hard, filthy kiss with a rough hand on his ass. 

Then Rhys was sent away with promises that he would see Jack at work later.

Rhys came home hours later. No Jack seen at all though reportedly was at his office.

There on the couch sat Jack, arms draped over the back of the couch and head tilted back. Rhys smiled.

"Hey," he rounded over to the front of the couch, "were you avoiding me or something today or--" He froze. Began shaking. 

Jack sat as though lounging on the couch. His mask off and mouth slack with his tongue cut out, throat slit. Blood spilt on the couch old and drying as though he had sat there bleeding for hours. 

Rhys stared. Then scrambled into action, grabbing one of the many hidden guns and searched throughout the house to see if the attackers were still around. His heartbeat loud in his ears and hands shaking around the pistol. 

The coast deemed clear, Rhys stood in front of Jack's corpse with shaking breaths. 

The reasonable, responsible thing to do was to call the authorities; tell them what had happened and have Jack's body taken away. 

Instead, Rhys draped Jack's jacket over the corpse and hauled him onto his back to the car. He drove west toward the beach.

His hands shook the entire drive over and continued shaking as he hauled Jack's corpse onto the hood of the car under the stars. He sat down, the heavy weight of the corpse still weighing on his back.

He searched through Jack's pockets, fished out his wallet (with all the cash gone), the guns on his person gone (did he fight at all?), his cigarettes (he said he would quit), and his lighter. 

Rhys sat there for who knew how long, smoking Jack's cigarettes with shaky breaths.

He cried for the most hated man in the universe as the sun rose.


End file.
